Sissy
by PickleBlossom27
Summary: a girl turns to drugs for comfort and later pays... the price being a loved one.


Language

Descriptive Makayla Bray, 1st Hour

_**Sissy **_

I don't know why I was so mad about picking my brother up; I just was. I don't know why he was crying; I didn't care. I don't know why the sky was black, black and endless; it didn't really matter. I don't even know what happened that night; I don't think I want to. I wish I had known more that night; wish I had paid attention to my surroundings. Wish he had known how much I loved him; wish I had known how much I loved him…

In my room, I was about to take one more puff, to go into my own little fantasy world, when Mom yelled up at me to go pick up my brother from soccer practice. I knew she was in one of her moods, so I reluctantly agreed, not really thinking about the fact that I was high, nor acknowledging the distant rumbling in the sky and the icy cold wind. No, all I was thinking about was the incredible tingly sensation I was feeling.

I slammed the front door and stormed to my car, a red 2004 Dodge Neon. I crammed the key into the ignition and the engine purred to life.

To be honest, I don't know how I made it to the school, what with my haziness and the big storm I was driving through

He was there waiting when I pulled into the school parking lot. Everybody else had left and he looked scared and was crying. I stopped right next to him and he stood there, staring. I yelled at him, using a few words that I'm not about to repeat, and he rapidly picked up his bag, and looking startled, climbed into my car without saying a word.

We rode on in silence; I could tell he knew about my condition. I also knew how he felt about it, but I couldn't help it. It was my only way of freedom, and it was great!

I was there again, in my own little world of heightened senses, pure freedom, and carefree sensation. Here, I could fly, I could be anything I wanted to be, go anywhere I want to go… "Stop!" he yelled, fear in his voice.

"Sissy," I heard. "Sissy, stop! Sissy!!!" These were the words that would haunt me the rest of my life.

We were sliding on a puddle and I realized I was driving crookedly, right into the side of a bridge. I slammed the brakes and pulled the wheel around fiercely!

My car spun, the back hitting the railings of the bridge. A glimpse of the backseat in my rearview mirror made me gasp, a last prayer was whispered…

The windows all exploded into a glassy waterfall; I could feel where it was cutting me and a sticky liquid dampened my scalp. I went deep, into the darkness. I couldn't hold on; I didn't want to…

The darkness broke; broke into light. It was a piercing, dreadful, realistic light. _My eyes were finally open, _I realized. My skull was about to explode into fire. Faces were gathered around me, blurry and terrifying. One had crystal streaks running down her face, _teardrops._ I wonder why?

Then the memories all came back to me, screaming. Where was my brother? I tried to speak, but I failed. I was paralyzed, mentally that is, from shock. I tried again and somehow managed to get the words out, "W-w-where i-is m-my b-bro-broth-er?" I feebly stuttered. The faces around me suddenly looked alert. I blinked again-cautiously-and looked around. Someone sniffled.

My mom was there-she was the one who had been crying. Her face was puffy and red; she looked exhausted. I'd only seen her like this once before…

It was when I was thirteen, before I had let drugs and secrets take over, before I'd started sneaking around, before I'd started lying to her face, before I stopped caring, and right after Daddy died. He'd been shot during a robbery at the bank where he worked. After that, none of us talked to each other. I'm not sure why…

"So he's gone?" I asked. _Dead at the scene, _they told me. _Didn't feel a thing. _But I know he did, I saw his reflection in the mirror; saw the fear and pain in eyes, the realization that this was the end. The silent tears staining his face, in his last moments, he'd suffered one of the worst feelings in the universe, _betrayal._

The accident made front page, but I absolutely refused to look at it. I knew that my precious car had been totaled; that was obvious, and that part wasn't important, anyway. I just didn't want to see the scene of my brother's death; the death that I had caused.

My stay at the hospital was mostly boring and uneventful; I lay in the stiff hospital bed and replayed the accident in my head over and over. Doctors and nurses tried to get me to eat, I got pointless and irritating visits from people who thought they knew me. And the entire time, my mom just sat in the lumpy recliner in the corner of my room, crying, praying, whispering, and rubbing her face with exhaustion.

Two weeks later, I was at home. I was still bruised up with a broken arm and a lot of stitches, but I was doing better, physically. Every night, though I would lay in my bed and cry for hours; I would moan, and talk to myself. I had only had one cigarette in the three days I had been home; I was going to quit, for good… even if it killed me.

Today I was well enough to walk around.

I wondered into my brother's old room and looked at his bed. Under his headboard, I could see the end of a book sticking out. Curious, I pulled it out and gasped. It was his diary, his wrinkled, black-and-blue diary that looked like soda had been spilled on. I opened it up and started reading, feeling only slightly guilty. It started about a month after Daddy died, on August 24, 2005…

Deer diery,

Most gize doent rite n dierrys but I need a frend reely bad. Cuz sissy don't caer bout me no more, she only cares about those cigrets that she kepes stoling from daddys old box. I tryd tu tell her that she was bn reel bad and I gonna tell momma, but I cantt just get her n trubl like that. Cuz Ime not mean, speshuly not to sissy. Its reealy loenlee here tho cuz I wont sissy to play with me liek she used to. Them cigrets r bad for her my techer sed so. She sed thay cos bad lung problems. They smel funny two, not like daddys used to. She put poudr stuff n them. I saw her. Wen I axd her bout it she sed I wudent understand cuz im only six, but she dusnt no that im almost 7. I wont mie old sissy bak!

I flipped the page. There were more entries, but I couldn't read anymore. I was crying too hard. I dropped his diary and left his room.

I looked in the full- length mirror at the end of the hall, seeing my reflection, a tall, slim girl with stringy dirty-blonde hair and murky eyes filled with confusion. Her mouth was thin and tight. Standing there I realized that I don't know who I am, I don't know why I changed, and I didn't know anything about anyone besides me after Dad's accident. I would have cried, but there were no more tears. I would have run away, but I had nowhere else to go. I would have lain in bed to mourn, but what good would it do? So I decided to do what I knew I would eventually have to do… visit my brother's grave.

I went down the same stairs I went down last time, ran through the same door, and drove out of the same driveway. It was all so familiar, I began to weep. The only differences were that I was in a different car, Mom's car, and I wasn't high.

I absent-mindedly drove to the cemetery where our family has always been buried. I light-headedly stumbled out of the car and walked towards dad's grave. Mom had told me that he was buried right next to dad. Wandering past gravestone after gravestone, I finally reached it. My brother's gravestone. It said 1998-2009 In Jesus' hands Forever, _Brandon Truscott_

Finally, I found the peace I need, the permission to live on, even though Brandon couldn't. I sunk to my knees and prayed to God. I prayed for hours, until I made up my mind to live on for Brandon. I owed him that much, owed my mother that much, owed God that much.


End file.
